Tied
by iguanablogger
Summary: based off a tumblr prompt, "Reblog this and my muse is tied to yours for an hour". Got a little out of hand. IzaNami, suspense. Some swearing and gore.
1. Chapter 1

Namie felt stiff; unbelievably stiff. Also groggy. God, what did she drink last night? She wasn't supposed to drink. She knew she wasn't supposed to drink. Who the hell tricked her into drinking?

Her butt was sore, too. The hair on her arms stood upright and she shivered awake. Whose bed was this? Was she even lying down? It didn't seem like it. Actually, it felt rather like she was sitting on the floor. How could she be sitting when she couldn't even lift her head? This was all so confusing…

Namie groaned loudly- a terrible mistake. Nausea leapt into her throat like a tiny child on a carousel. Fortunately there was nothing in her stomach and so she was spared the embarrassment of vomiting. Some huge person was hugging her. She could tell because there was an unbearable tightness around her biceps and below her breasts. It was so constraining she found that she couldn't even move her shoulders. Namie struggled weakly, but all she succeeded in doing was tiring herself out. She was aware of her body collapsing against the wall behind her.

The wall bent back and she nearly lost her balance. Namie gasped, instinctively kicking with her legs to stay upright. Actually, that didn't feel like a wall in the least bit- it was too…bumpy? Almost like a bone or something…

"Hey…are you awake?"

Namie's stomach dropped. The voice that addressed her was tired and pain-clenched, but too familiar to disregard. Without a doubt, she was speaking with Izaya Orihara.

"Izaya?" She croaked, peeling an eye open. Oh god, too much light.

Namie grunted and bowed her head, mentally fighting off the stabbing sensations in her eyeballs.

"Yeah. Are you alright?"

"I…I don't know…"

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to go back to sleep forever.

Eventually the burning beneath her lids forced her to screw her eyes back open. As her head was still dipped, she had a perfect view of the thick rope drawn across her body. It was crushing the top of her ribcage and restricting all movement across her torso, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that the rope disappeared behind her…where Izaya's voice was coming from.

"Izaya, what the hell?" She demanded, tears stinging her already abused optic nerves, "What is this? Where are we?"

Izaya sighed and then instantly regretted it. She heard him wheeze in pain, gritting his teeth as he replied:

"Y-you don't remember a thing, do you?"

What was there to remember? Namie thought frantically. It had been a totally normal day. She'd been at the office, flipping through files and sorting them on the shelf. Izaya was sharpening his switchblade at his desk. He'd had his feet up. She remembered the squeaks his chair made when he adjusted his balance.

Namie concentrated. There'd been a buzz at the door. Izaya ordered her to get it, so she'd put away her work and come downstairs. She opened the door…but then…

Dammit, she couldn't remember! No, that wasn't true- there was something. Something rough, heavy, seizing her around the waist. She'd tried to scream- her mouth was covered. There was an impact- her head against the wall. A flash of something in the background- a knife? And then her whole vision was covered in something white and vaguely soft…and then nothing.

Izaya chuckled; it sounded like a sob.

"They got to you first, obviously." He explained, craning his neck in an effort to stave off the pain. Namie felt the base of his skull graze her scalp. His neck was damp and it was wetting her hair.

"Pretty sure it was chloroform. Didn't really matter which chemical it was, I didn't give them the chance to use it again. You were out like a light, though. I almost thought they'd killed you."

Namie would have snorted in disbelief that he noticed, but she was too busy being terrified.

"Who?" She cried, thrashing against her bindings, "Why? What's going on?"

"Namie-" Izaya panted, shuddering in agony with a tight groan. "N-Namie, please stop the hysterics. I-" another shallow breath, "I think I've got a few broken ribs here."

The severity in his voice brought some reason to her senses. She turned her head, trying to get a glimpse of him. What little she could see wasn't good; Izaya's shoulders were sagging and his hair was matted flat. His skin was freckled with a mixture of blood and dirt.

"So they broke into the apartment-"

"You let them in, actually."

"Under your directions!"

Izaya was in too much pain to argue further. Namie proceeded:

"They broke in, drugged me, beat the shit out of you, then dragged us here and tied us up?"

"Yep, sounds about right."

"Why?"

That was the one piece she couldn't get around. Sure, Izaya had enough enemies to form their own country, but he hadn't pissed anyone off lately. He'd been under the radar, underground, taking a break, laying off etc etc. Even Shizuo Heiwajima had been spared his antics these past couple of weeks. And whoever pulled this off was skilled to say the least- Izaya wasn't an easy target to take down.

"Well-" Izaya coughed, "-there may have been some, er, dealings I've had that I, uh, didn't tell you about."

"Dealings?"

"Yeah, drug stuff. You know. Apparently, some of the intel I gave them…might not have been accurate."

"You lied to a drug cartel!?"

"Maybe!"

Namie growled in frustration and threw her head back, smacking Izaya squarely between the shoulder blades. He cried out pathetically, but Namie was too busy yelling to care:

"You asshole! If you're going to get killed for being an idiot, why did you have to take me down with you? I have nothing to do with any of this!"

"Namie-!" Izaya hissed, eyes wrenched shut.

Namie hit him again, punctuating each blow with another word:

"You. Stupid. Fucking. Bastard. I. Won't. Die. For. You!"

She wasn't entirely sure Izaya was still breathing by the time her tantrum had ended. He appeared unresponsive, aside from the occasional moan. Namie wiggled in her bonds and tried to get a better look at his condition, but she just couldn't manage it. She could hardly even feel her hands.

She turned to face front. Where was she, anyway? The room was smothered in darkness except for one bright lamp hanging directly above the two captives. It was like one of those horribly clichéd FBI interrogation rooms, only with no table. The ground was cement, and Namie observed a bug skittering over her ankle in disgust. For some reason, her kidnappers allowed her to retain her shoes.

"…Izaya?" She prodded the informant with her cheek.

No response. Had she killed him? Or was the pain so intense he finally passed out? Namie bit her lip. What did they do to him? Dammit, if only she could remember…! It wouldn't do any good, though; Izaya saw the whole thing himself… she was down before he even knew he was under attack. Some aid.

Namie scoffed at her own line of thinking. Forget Izaya, she was clearly the victim here. She didn't owe him a damn thing; she hardly even knew him. So what if he'd been pummeled to death and she couldn't save him? Why should she care? The bastard deserved every ounce of pain and then some!

But…seeing him now, pale and motionless, blood soaking his torn shirt…it wasn't what she wanted.

An ear splitting creak startled Namie and jolted Izaya awake. It sounded like a very rusty gate had just swung open. And then, it swung shut with a reverberating slam. One pair of footsteps was now approaching the two captives frighteningly slowly. Namie's entire body went rigid and she unconsciously pressed against Izaya's back. She bit her lip and willed her tears to vanish.

The stranger stepped into the shade of light. The angle made it very hard to distinguish his features- Namie had to squint simply to identify his clothes. She figured Izaya's eyesight was probably worse off than her own, so she made an effort, but no luck. She didn't recognize him.

"How fortunate I am," the man said almost cheerfully, "of all the people in Tokyo that want you dead, I'm the one who gets there first."

"Evening, Mister Isogi," Izaya greeted with a fraction of his usual disdain.

Namie was impressed at how unaffected he could make his voice sound when he needed to. She wouldn't have believed he was incapacitated moments ago. Then again, someone in Izaya's position probably required that trait.

"You screwed up, Orihara."

"Aw," Izaya mocked disappointment, "and I'd so wanted to impress you."

Isogi paused. Namie didn't know what to do with herself- should she stare at their oppressor? Beg for mercy? Was Izaya cueing her?

"You know, you put up quite a fight back there. I was starting to think we couldn't take you."

"Yes, well," Izaya laughed and then shuddered, "as I've said before, there's a good reason I can go toe-to-toe with Shizu-chan."

"Not good enough, it seems."

Why was he stalling? Namie felt a nasty panic bubbling in her chest. Whatever Isogi was about to do, it was bad. And it involved her.

"What are you going to do to us?" Namie blurted out, unable to contain herself.

She felt Izaya flinch behind her, clearly not anticipating her sudden demand. Isogi eyed her but she didn't back down.

"I'm not sure yet," Isogi admitted, "I want to kill Orihara in the most painful way possible, but the plan changed when we discovered he'd hired a female partner."

Namie stayed silent.

Isogi continued, "One thing's for sure, though. I want him to suffer. So I think I'll leave the two of you alone in here for a while and see where that goes."

"That's it?" Namie questioned, smiling incredulously, "You just want to watch us sit here?"

"For now, yes."

And that was apparently the end of the conversation. Isogi stepped into the darkness and all that was left to hear were his retreating footsteps. Then there was the screech of the rusty gate and its sigh of a closing.

"Listen carefully, Namie," Izaya whispered suddenly. Namie leaned into him. "This is a warehouse on Daikoku wharf. There is one exit at the front of the room. If we work together, we can reach it."

"Are you sure about that?" Namie asked quietly, "he probably expects us to escape, and your condition-"

"I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

Namie frowned.

"What?" She blurted at normal volume.

"You didn't actually believe Isogi when he said he'd leave us alone, did you?"

At first Namie remained as confused as earlier. But then, slowly but surely, she heard it. A host of terrible clicking noises… squeaks and chatters and gnashing of sharp teeth.

"Oh, god…" She whimpered, shrinking against Izaya.

"I told you this was a wharf."

Namie shut her eyes. If she couldn't see them, they weren't there. It didn't matter though because she could hear them everywhere. Big, hairy, iridescent-eyed ship rats. She was going to be eaten alive by carnivorous rodents.

"Just stay calm," Izaya instructed her, drawing his knees closer to his chest, "They won't attack you unless you panic."

"Panic?" Namie swallowed, water obscuring her vision, "I'm not panicking!"

"You just stay as serene and tranquil as a butterfly, OK?"

"OK!" Namie nodded fervently, sinking her incisors into her bottom lip.

"Good girl," Izaya coaxed, though his voice was far from soft. He sounded like a commander evaluating his next move in a battle. "You're going to be fine."

Izaya extended his right foot into the darkness and put it down. Cement. Exerting a minimum amount of force, he dragged his body and Namie's towards the foot. They moved four centimeters forward.

"Namie, I'm going to need your help."

The rats were getting closer and rowdier. Izaya saw a pink tail dart into the cone of light and then out again.

"Hm?"

Izaya rolled his eyes. Kanto's boldest scientist had to pick this moment to develop musophobia?

"I'm moving us towards the door. When you feel me slide across the floor, kick off in the opposite of whatever direction I move, alright?"

"But what about the ropes?"

The informant huffed in irritation.

"I'll get to that part eventually."


	2. Chapter 2

It was slow progress, but it was somewhat steady. Namie followed Izaya's lead, pushing where he pulled and sliding where he did so. Soon the time came for them to leave the room's only cone of light and plunge into the rat-infested blackness. Namie locked up, petrified.

"You know," Izaya grunted, a hint of his old grin in his voice, "you'd think that someone who spent her entire career in a laboratory would be a little less scared of rats."

"Field mice are one thing," Namie retorted, snapping her head sideways to sort of glare at him. "I happen to know the details of every lethal virus those creatures are carrying. And let me tell you something, mister fearless- they aren't pretty!"

Izaya gave up the argument but wasn't willing to sit still. Eventually, Namie relented and helped him scoot away from the suspended lamp. The darkness was something of a comfort, actually. She could hear the rats scuttling around them but she couldn't see a thing- just the pale cables of rope pinning her arms to her sides. Namie whimpered to herself as a pair of scaly feet brushed her leg.

Suddenly, Izaya stopped moving. Namie tried to turn around, about to ask what was wrong when he gasped sharply.

"Izaya?" Worry heightened the pitch of her voice.

"I'm fine," he told her quietly, "that was a piece of glass."

Namie frowned, puzzled. There was broken glass on the floor? Izaya must have stepped on it, but how did it slice through his shoes…?

"Are you not wearing shoes?" Namie wondered.

Izaya sighed.

"They were gone when I woke up. Isogi must have checked me for weapons before he tied us together."

"And your shoes are weapons…?"

Izaya grunted and Namie felt his elbow jab her spine. It wasn't particularly painful but it did surprise her. Moments later she felt his fingers depositing a glass shard in her palm. It was slick with blood.

"I keep a spare blade in one of the soles."

Namie wiggled her toes. They'd let her keep her flats, deeming them apparently harmless. She didn't have much time to dwell on that thought, though, because she could feel something tugging on her sleeve. The fabric tore easily, alarming Namie considerably.

"Izaya-!"

"I know, I know," he growled, drawing ragged breaths, "I've got two in my lap right now."

"Well, do something!" She insisted, trying desperately to shake her numb arm.

"Namie, give me your shoe."

"What?"

"They didn't take yours, right?"

A squeal bit the air as Namie kicked a rat away from her thigh.

"No, I have them."

"Give me one."

With some difficulty, Namie managed to slip off one shoe and place it in her empty hand. She blindly put it on the floor and nudged it over to Izaya's part of the rope. As soon as he had it, the room launched into a cacophony of slams and squeals.

Izaya was smashing the rats' heads with the heel of her shoe.

Namie followed his example, removing her other shoe and swinging as far as she could with her stunted range. After a minute or so, everything returned to silence.

"Are you alright?" She asked breathlessly.

"Y-yeah," he nodded in the dark, "I've got a few bites, though."

Then it was back to work. As they scooted along the floor, Izaya explained that Isogi had widely underestimated him. For one thing, Isogi believed that being in the dark would confuse and demoralize Izaya, slowing if not preventing escape. On the contrary, Izaya knew the layout of this particular warehouse by heart. He wasn't one to do half-assed research; he knew everything about Isogi's gang and their whereabouts before ever agreeing to meet them in the first place. Secondly, Isogi was unaware of Namie's prowess as a doctor. His intention was to beat Izaya into immobility, rendering Namie a defenseless target. He didn't count on Namie being able to hold her own as well as being able to keep Izaya's head clear.

They were quiet for a while after that. Slowly inching across the floor, one foot, then the other foot, then the other foot, then slide. Each movement was a struggle against the taut ropes, but after a while Namie felt them giving a little.

"Hey…" She began, scanning the black for beady red eyes, "…what exactly happened after they, um…while I was out?"

"Not much," Izaya inhaled shakily, taking another step. "Four of them came at me with blunt objects. I think I got at least two with my switchblade, but somebody nailed me at the door."

"The door? So you were going to leave me there?"

"I figured they were after me; they just knocked you out to protect their identities."

Namie snorted, "Obviously not the case."

"I came to in a car, blindfolded. The blindfold was pointless, though, I'd already seen Isogi's face. I knew where they were taking me."

"Did they bring us to this room immediately?"

"No. At least, not me. I was brought to Isogi's 'office', where we enjoyed a brief temper tantrum. When he was done mutilating my face, he brought me here. I was barely conscious for most of it- I don't even remember how I got here- but I remember seeing you lying there and thinking…"

Namie almost stopped crawling. Izaya shook himself and resumed his story. The delirium must be setting in, Namie thought.

"Well after that, he had two of his men come in and prop us up into sitting positions. Isogi was monologuing at this point, so I tuned him out. It annoys me when humans do that."

"Speak for yourself." Namie muttered under her breath.

"And then they left. I was in too much pain to move for quite some time. I think I slept for a bit. Not entirely certain, but I figure we were in here for almost an hour by the time you woke up."

Izaya halted, jerking Namie back some. The air felt different in this part of the room, wetter somehow.

"This is it," Izaya said, "this is the exit."

"Great. Now how do we open it without using our arms?"

Izaya sighed and leaned against her, inciting irritation.

"Okay, I've been thinking about this. We-"

Pain lanced through Namie's calf and she cried aloud, bolting upright. Her skull collided with Izaya's, knocking him forward- though that was her last problem right now.

Namie swung blindly with her shoe, frantically aiming for the animal whose jaw was buried in her leg. She could feel it clawing its way through her muscle, trying to breach the bone. The pain was unbearable.

Finally, she got it. With a final stomp, she shattered the rodent's spine and it collapsed, its head thumping to the cement beside her calf.

"What was that?" Izaya asked.

"B-bastard got my leg," Namie moaned, relaxing her muscles. Tears streamed her cheeks, both from the fright of the situation and the intense burning of the wound.

"Namie. We can use the rat."

"What?" She panted, almost too tired to be confused.

"Think about it. It's got sharp teeth and its saliva would help slicken the ropes."

"That's…that's too disgusting."

"Well, then you're not going to like this part at all." Izaya continued, his tone weirdly apologetic, "you're going to have to break free, Namie. I can't do it."

"What do you mean?" She asked, suspicious. She didn't like this foreign guilt in his voice.

"My arm is broken."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Take the rat and close its jaw around the top layer of cable, alright?"

"Uh, OK."

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Namie had performed enough dissections in her days to be able to properly manipulate an animal. She pried open the creature's mouth and rat drool drizzled onto the rope, dampening it considerably. The smell was atrocious. Namie wondered faintly if she'd ever be able to get it out of her hair.

She opened and shut the rat's mouth, using its hooked incisors as a saw and its tongue as a lubricant when the rope went dry. None of it seemed to have any effect.

"This isn't working, Izaya."

"Just keep trying." He sounded very, very tired.

She sawed a little longer and noticed with satisfaction that some of the rope's outer fibers had frayed. At this point, she was running out of rat saliva. It was then she remembered the glass in her hand- she'd dropped it when the rat bit her. Namie used the edge of the glass on the weakened strand of rope and significantly cut into it.

"I've cut it!" She informed Izaya excitedly.

"Good job." He murmured.

Namie sliced into the next layer of cable with renewed vigor. She first wet as much as she could with the drying rat tongue and then rubbed back and forth with the glass as though she were serving a loaf of bread. The shard stung her palms and blood soon flowed from her hands, but Namie couldn't care less. The second cable came free with a beautiful snap- she could practically taste freedom. Now that her arms moved with ease, her actions were more pronounced. She tried hard not to nudge Izaya much, but didn't take much notice when she did. He didn't protest any of it, so it probably didn't hurt.

Finally, the third layer split. Namie got to her knees and turned around, facing Izaya's back with a tremendous smile. However, the moment she removed her weight from his own, the informant toppled backwards. Namie caught him in her arms, gasping as his head rebounded off her shoulder heavily.

"Izaya!"

"Uh…?" He groaned, his eyes unfocused.

His skin was so pale she could see it even in the darkness. It wasn't much to go on, but coupled with her sense of touch it was enough to understand where he was.

"Hey!" She slapped his cheeks with her bleeding hands. When that didn't work, she pushed below his shoulder blades and hoisted him back into a sitting position, "Come on, wake up!"

"Namie?" He asked hoarsely, rasping out a cough.

"I'm here, I'm here." She assured him, "Let's stand up now."

"…the hinges…"

"What?"

Izaya coughed, "the door…it's too loud…"

Namie bit her lip. He had an excellent point. There wasn't even any need for a lock on the door because it wouldn't open without a horrible, ear-splitting noise. Namie glanced her blood soaked hands, but decided against it- she knew the horrors of tetanus.

"Rat blood…"

Not a bad idea. Namie picked up the rat and slit its stomach with the glass. There was just enough blood in the creature to coat the door's hinges, but blood wasn't oil. There'd still be some sound when the door opened.

"Alright, it's done. Ready to stand up?"

"Y-yeah…"

Namie found his arm and draped it across her neck, giving him some sorely needed support. Izaya's opposite arm hung uselessly at his side. Slowly, with many grunts and clenched breaths, the two made it to their feet. They almost fell down just as quickly, as Namie's leg was badly gnawed and not ready to carry both bodies. Izaya himself nearly lost consciousness again, with the pain in his ribs completely numbing the rest of his senses.

"You're okay," Namie whispered, panting and propping Izaya up, pressing his chest with her red, sticky hand. "You're okay, you're okay."

Izaya couldn't form words. He groaned and grit his teeth and leaned deeply on Namie as they attempted to escape the warehouse. Through much effort, they succeeded in cracking open the door. Namie yanked on it with as much force as she could muster and it left a gap about three feet wide. Not enough for two people.

Izaya's entire body was trembling against her own. His shoulders were heaving and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Namie drew him closer and tried to coax him through the exit, all the while murmuring encouragement.

"It's okay," he was nodding and stumbling forward. "it's okay, it's okay. You're okay."

Once he was through, the door began to swing shut again. Namie slipped through the two-foot clearance and sank to one knee in the dirt. She wasn't sure how much farther she could go on that leg.

Izaya kneeled beside her, his head very close to the ground. He was vomiting.

"Shh," she rubbed his back and he coughed and coughed. "Shh, it's okay."

When he was done, he lay mute for a few minutes. Namie couldn't blame him. She wasn't feeling too wonderful herself.

"Y-you…you need a weapon." He croaked, his voice as wobbly as his balance.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a guard," Izaya explained, clearing his throat and trying to sit up. He didn't make it, "There's a guy watching the warehouse exit. He'll be here any second."

"Okay," Namie confirmed and took his arms, easing him upright. She dragged him back until he could rest against the warehouse door.

Now that they were outside, she could see a little better. A single electric lamp hung from the building's side, illuminating a few feet around the door. Namie studied Izaya's face in its orangish glow.

The word mutilated had not been unnecessarily used earlier. One of his eyes had swelled shut, flecks of blood trapped in the folds of skin. A long gash split the side of his head, explaining why his hair and neck were so damp. Most of his wounds appeared to have crusted over by now. He reeked of blood and sweat, though Namie didn't fare any better. Not a single inch of flesh on his face was healthily colored.

"N-Namie," he wheezed, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall limp against the wall, "Find s-something. Now."

"Okay." She sniffed, her vision blurring. Why was her throat closing up? Why did she want to cry so badly? Why did it hurt so much to see him this way?


	3. Chapter 3

Though it required some exertion, Namie returned to her full height, leaving Izaya on the ground. He would need a brief respite- how brief was unclear to say; Namie could already hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel. She needed something with which to defend herself. But what? The moon was an unreliable source of illumination and the electric lamp only succeeded in deepening every nearby shadow.

Her eyes scanned the dirt around her. Loose pebbles, twigs, a stack of wooden planks, cinderblocks- those would have made perfect weapons had she possessed greater strength. During the course of her investigation, Namie's bare foot snagged on a rock that had tumbled from a pile of rubble. She stooped and picked up the stone, testing its weight in her palm. It wasn't the most advanced solution, but it would get the job done.

"Namie…" Izaya hissed in warning.

She understood; the guard was close enough for her to identify his outline. Namie crouched behind the collection of planks, peering over the boards at Izaya's position in front of the warehouse. God, he was so pale it didn't look human.

"Somebody out here?" A male voice prodded. "Hello?"

Izaya shut his eyes and lay still. His body looked crumpled and broken. As soon as the guard noticed him, he rushed over to get a closer look.

"Hey-"

This was the moment. Namie ran around the planks and headed for the lookout, the rock raised high in her hand. She struck the base of his skull with its sharpest point, dazing the man and causing him to pitch forward. Izaya sat up immediately, pulling the guard down to the ground where he could smother his oxygen supply. After thirty seconds or so of weak struggling, he fell motionless.

Izaya sighed greatly, doubling up in pain. Namie moved to his side, but he shook his head and mumbled:

"Search him."

She did so. A firearm was tucked into the man's belt, concealed by his jacket. Namie pulled it out and placed it in the dirt in front of Izaya. She didn't find anything useful in his jacket pockets, but there was a pair of keys in his pants.

"What do you think of these?" She asked, holding the ring up to her employer. The keys glittered in the orange lamplight and jingled musically.

"A car," Izaya concluded, "possibly the one that brought us here."

"Do you think it's nearby?" Namie inquired hopefully.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

Something in Izaya's tone sounded very cynical, but Namie didn't care. They had a real chance at escape right now; they could make it! Only she had no idea what the car looked like or where it was. As if reading her mind, Izaya responded:

"There's a loading area behind the warehouse. That's where most of the members park during meetings. The car, and it's a four-passenger one, should be there."

Namie frowned.

"How could you possibly know that?"

Izaya smiled with bloody lips.

"I told you, I do my research."

With that, it was decided they would make a break for the car. Namie wrapped her fingers around the gun's handle, but Izaya stopped her.

"Leave it." He instructed.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged, "It'll throw them off. Besides, I have a plan."

"Care to clue me in?" Namie asked skeptically. She anticipated his silence.

Izaya shook his head again.

"It's better if you don't know," he insisted. "Now help me up."

Namie lifted his good arm and dragged it around her shoulder, giving him the support he needed to climb to his feet. His condition was clearly worsening; he couldn't keep his head upright anymore. Izaya dipped forward as they limped to the loading lot, trying without success to avoid stepping on sharp objects. Neither of them had shoes at this point. Namie's stockings were torn beyond repair, and she didn't even want to think about the bottoms of Izaya's feet.

It might have been a five-minute walk, if they were both healthy individuals. But between the limping, the resting, the coaxing, and the occasional stumble, it took them much longer to reach their destination. Namie had half a mind to tease Izaya's plan out of him as they traveled, but figured he needed to save his strength. She wasn't sure how much he had left.

The loading area was barely outlined in moonlight. It was a rectangular patch of emptiness and asphalt, excepting two or three cars sitting a considerable distance away from each other. Izaya indicated a white Hyundai, the closest of the three. Namie nodded and prepared for a final push. Her leg was throbbing horribly at this point, almost certainly infected. She was starting to worry it could give out from under her without warning, and then she and Izaya would both be glued to the ground.

Luck finally favored them when they reached the car without incident. Namie grinned and procured the keys from her skirt pocket.

And then there was an explosion.

It was a silent explosion. Simply put, the only color Namie could see was white. Everything was white. She was staring wide-eyed into a white oblivion. Someone spoke to her from somewhere inside the whiteness:

"I thought about it for a long time, and I've made up my mind. Listen closely, Izaya Orihara, because this is how you're going to die."

Now Namie was beginning to understand. The edges of her vision were curling and turning black, until the white glare shriveled down to a single source: a spotlight. Isogi had aimed one directly at the car, so hot and bright it could easily have been used to illuminate a stadium. Isogi's shadow was sharply defined by the light, as were three others.

"First, I'm going to kill the woman."

Namie furtively blinked her eyes, pleading with them to work. If these were to be her last few moments alive, she really wanted to know what was going on.

"Why?" Izaya asked. His voice was strong, but he was propping himself up against the car door and his legs were shaking.

"A couple of reasons, I suppose; to dissuade others from working with you; to torture your conscience, assuming you have one. Or, on the off-chance that you harbor affection for her, to break your heart."

Namie turned to Izaya fearfully. His eyes were hard and narrowly set, and his teeth clicked together in a snarl. This was a side of him she'd never seen.

"Naturally, this will need to be a traumatic as possible."

As Isogi said this, two of the shadows began advancing on the car. Namie's stomach bloated with terror and sunk into her legs. Izaya grabbed her arm and shouted at her to run. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Fear had completely immobilized her. This was it. She was going to die because that bastard couldn't keep his mouth shut.

They were getting closer. Namie could hear her own breathing in her ears, clipped and tight. Her heart threw itself repeatedly against her ribcage, ordering her to flee.

The spotlight was almost gone now, replaced by the stony faces of Isogi's hired men. Namie tried to twist away when one of them made a grab for her wrist, but her leg chose that moment to stop functioning. She lost her balance and was caught by large hands coiling around her biceps.

"I'm sorry, dear," Isogi apologized nervously in Namie's direction, stepping closer to Izaya, "but you really should have thought twice before agreeing to work for the likes of him."

"No!" Namie shouted, bucking against her captors. She wasn't going to die here! "No! No! Let go of me!"

"Let her go, Isogi!" Izaya demanded hoarsely, pushing off against the slick paint of the automobile in an effort to stand on his own.

Isogi grinned at the helpless informant. Then he drew his fist back and punched him along the jaw.

"Stop!" Namie screamed, struggling as hard as she could.

Izaya crumpled like a swatted insect, but Isogi did not allow him to hit the ground. He pinned the younger man to the car with his elbow, lodging it firmly beneath Izaya's chin.

"Is this love, Orihara?" Isogi jeered, prodding the informant's jugular painfully, "Is this woman more than an acquaintance? You might as well let her know, as you're both going to die and all."

"Leave her alone," Izaya coughed, clawing at Isogi's arm with his functioning hand. He gave off the look of a puppy kicking a German shepherd.

Isogi turned away from Izaya to order his men:

"Do whatever you like, then dispose of the body."

Namie thrashed about, shrieking and biting and hitting but in the end she accomplished nothing. Something heavy collided with her head, stunning her into a few seconds of submission. She felt herself being lowered to the ground, even though she still commanded her limbs to fight. Namie cried out as a hand clamped around her injured calf, pumping out another pulse of blood. She felt a draft around her thighs and realized her stockings had been removed.

That sound was in her ears again. Everything was muffled except for her own shuddered breathing. Izaya was yelling, Isogi was arguing back, the hired men were murmuring amongst themselves and yanking on her bloodied skirt, but she didn't hear a thing. It occurred to Namie that she was sobbing. Seiji would never know what happened to her but maybe that was for the best. She and Izaya would be murdered together in the middle of nowhere. That was already decided. So whatever pain she endured when they seized her hips and squeezed her breasts or slashed her throat- that was alright.

Namie rested her head in the dirt and stared up at the sky. The pollution wasn't as bad here though the night was still a cloudy one. A cluster of stars winked at her, asking why she looked so glum. She answered that it was because two strangers were about to violate her body in an extremely violent way and she wasn't really OK with it. Well, the stars replied, these things happen.

And then there were gunshots. She figured Izaya had gone too far and Isogi just shot him. Three times, four times…she could already see his battered body sliding down to the ground, leaving four red trails on the car's brilliant white paint.

Out of habit, she gasped when a heavy weight collapsed onto her torso. It was bleeding warmth and blood all over her and groaning in pain. What's this, Namie wondered. Raising her head a notch, she noticed that her tormenters had both been shot.

This was surprising. Namie blinked a few times, wondering if she'd been killed and this was the next world. Was she hallucinating? How had they died?

A familiar voice interrupted her death-soliloquy.

"Hey."

She looked up into one sunken brown eye. The other was swelled shut. Namie watched in stunned silence as he bent down and shoved at the body pinning her until it rolled over. He exhaled, rubbed his forehead with his sleeve, and then offered her a hand up.

Namie stared at it dumbly.

"Namie?" Izaya said her name in a curious tone, tilting his head.

She shook herself and took his hand. He helped her stand when she found her knees wouldn't work. Izaya allowed her plenty of space to breathe, keeping his arm around her waist to steady her. Namie practiced inhaling for a few seconds. Then she hurled herself at him, latching her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Izaya tensed slightly, but held her and whispered hushes in her ear. Namie had no more tears. She was simply taking a moment to process information. Her eyes were so wide she thought they might pop out and every bone in her body quivered like jello.

"It's over now," Izaya told her, gently stroking her back, "It's over."

Namie nodded sharply. When she was ready, she withdrew from his embrace and noticed for the first time that he was standing upright.

"H-how are you-" Namie stammered, lifting a finger to point at his seemingly miraculous recovery, "b-but you were- and they- he-"

"How about I explain everything in the car, okay?" Izaya offered, walking up to the driver's side door and stooping to pick up the keys where she'd dropped them.

Namie complied. Izaya unlocked the doors and handed her the ignition key, walking around to the side. If she hadn't been his personal secretary, she would've been appalled by his decision to let her drive. But she knew him well enough to understand that for some strange reason, Izaya preferred to be driven.

The engine roared to life and then settled into a quiet hum. A blinking red light informed the two escapees that they should buckle their seatbelts. Namie stared at Izaya blankly as he slid the length of shiny fabric across his chest. He noticed her after a while and paused, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, right," he corrected himself, clearing his throat, "Uh, Doctor Kishitani's residence, please. I assume you know where that is."

Namie wanted to hear his explanation, but she also wanted to not get caught surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies that had previously been trying to murder her, so she put up with his directions and circled around to the highway.

"It's a long story," Izaya sighed deeply, leaning into his seat, "I don't even know where to begin."

"Start with your injuries." Namie directed coldly. He looked barely conscious when Isogi hit him; by every right, he should be delirious with pain.

"Ah. Well, most of those are real."

"You think?"

"You're taking me to see Shinra, aren't you? Look, if I had a drug strong enough to make me forget I have two splintered ribs, I'd die of an overdose."

"So you were acting."

"I would've thought you'd know better, Namie. Isn't that one of the first rules of corporate warfare? Always let your opponent underestimate you?"

Namie scowled at the road, passing a significantly slower vehicle.

"And when you told me to run; was that acting, too?"

Izaya chuckled to himself.

"Come on, we both knew you wouldn't do it. Not to mention, your leg is shot to hell. You're gonna want to have Shinra look at that."

"When you tried to protect me," Namie's voice cracked, "was that also acting?"

Izaya's smile disappeared and his gaze fell to the window. He took a few moments to put the words together and spoke quietly when he delivered:

"The more I showed them I cared about you, the more determined they were to hurt you. If I told them I wanted you safe, they'd go out of their way to ensure you were harmed. In doing so, they would inevitably lower their guards."

"And what did you do while their guards were lowered?" Namie asked, peering out of the corner of her eye to ascertain his expression.

"I shot them."

"With what gun!?"

"This one."

Namie nearly flipped off the road. In his hand, Izaya held a large, recently discharged metal pistol. It looked identical to the one they'd found on the lookout earlier.

"But you told me to leave it!"

"Because I didn't want you to know I had it," Izaya explained patiently, "if you'd known I had a gun, your performance would not have been as entertaining."

Namie glared at him in horror.

"Not to mention, I needed Isogi to think I was harmless as well. That turned out to be pretty easy, as he wanted so badly to believe it himself. All I had to do was wobble around, pretend to fall a couple times, breathe heavily and the next thing he knows, I'm unconscious."

Namie muttered under her breath, barely even seeing the street anymore.

"It was all a set-up…" she realized, "all of it, from the very beginning!"

"There were a few misunderstandings amongst the actors," Izaya drawled, shrugging, "for instance, I hadn't originally planned to get my arm broken or my face mashed. But for the most part, everyone played along perfectly."

"Especially you, Namie-chan."

Namie tried to ignore him, but he was hard to shut out.

"I needed them to believe I was scared, and you sold that flawlessly! Honestly, I don't know why you went into such a boring profession when your emotional range is so fascinating."

"Why did you need to kill them?" Namie cut in.

"They were terrorizing my humans."

Namie shot him a questioning glance.

"Excuse me?"

"They were selling highly lethal drugs at a great deal of nightclubs in Shinjuku. My humans were buying them, ingesting them, and dying from them."

Izaya was irate, tapping his fingers against his cheek and frowning intensely.

"Wouldn't you hate it," he began, his tone thick with frustration, "if you were watching the most amazing movie, and right when it gets to the good part- the main character dies of drug overdose? It's pathetic."

"So you…" Namie couldn't even get the words out of her mouth. All of this was done with good intentions? Izaya was fighting crime?

"Don't let it get to you," He said, yawning, "this was a one time thing."

She couldn't believe it. What an asshole. As Namie merged onto the Kawagoe highway, she related that Izaya Orihara may be the most ridiculous, maniacal, insane, twisted, and absurd person she had ever met.

She also could no longer imagine life without him.


End file.
